


I Take Care of the Drunk Professor

by renotheknight



Category: Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renotheknight/pseuds/renotheknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Professor Sycamore gets really drunk and Calem takes care of him, even if it's a pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Take Care of the Drunk Professor

Let me tell you, when Professor Augustine Sycamore gets drunk, he gets drunk. The only time I saw him drink and not get off his ass was at a wedding. For some deranged reason, if this man wants to drink, he will get drunk to the point he can't even stand up. This usually happens three times a year, he was not the type to always be drunk and he could enjoy one glass of wine at parties, very sophisticated. It's probably because he's fucking French, well that's my best guess anyways. 

Instead of going on a cute date, this idiot tells me at 8 at night he wants to go out to the bar. This makes me prepare for the drunk flirtation of the young Professor, and well the idiocy in his comments. 

He drove us to this bar in the city which was rather new, apparently this is why we were even going to the bar in the first place. It was like any other bar with dim lighting and racks of glasses, nothing different. Augustine decided he was going to try 3 of every drink on the menu. I order myself some fries and watched him drink two drinks before I even get my side dish. Sign one of him being drunk: he plays with his hair. The doucheface literally plays with his bangs as the alcohol kicks in, I don't get why, but I haven't done it in years. 

My food arrived and I'm content just looking at him as he spaces off into his gorgeous hair. I asked him how he's doing and he gave me the same tone of “I'm not listening to you but I'm going to sound like I'm trying”. Then he got another fucking drink, if I could afford leaving our car at the bar I would turn him getting drunk into a drinking game with the gang. “One shot for every time the Professor: Messes with his hair, waves his arms, spills something on himself, hits on me, gets defensive of me, and a few other funny things”. 

The dude had three more drinks and this is when 2 and 3 clicked in: him slurring and getting clumsy. It's quite cute how he tries to say “mon amour” when he slurs, sounds a lot like “I'm on an ore” which sounds very painful depending on what way his clumsy ass is on that ore. This is when he starts spilling alcohol on his white lab coats, sign 3. The fucker is so off that he wiped his coat, he doesn't dab it, HE WIPED IT. This is where things get funny. Here's just one example of what happened that night at this stage:

“So, how you hanging in there buddy? Doing good or, are you gonna puke?” I asked, laughing and grinning ear to ear. (He puked on me once out of the like 8 times he's been knockout drunk, I haven't let it down.) 

“I'm, I'm good- just- uh, reading about that weird stone that the green and white Pokémon carries,” is what he said. 

“Sycamore, honey, you don't have a stone in front of you and that green and white Pokémon could be any Pokémon,” I commented, like I'm some loving wife. He then pointed to a spec on the table and tried to convince me it was in fact a Mega Stone. This lead to him hitting his wine glass, which I have become skilled at catching. I basically paid a lot out of pocket to buy broken glasses, they always insisted no since I was the Champion and my drunk “friend” was the Professor, but I wasn't going to let them know I cared about my title and took advantage of that title. The Professor thinks I use it on everyone but it's only him that I say “Ah Champion says-” and play him. 

Then three more drinks add on in the next hour and he's trying to pick me up all over again, number 4. A fine example of this is:

“Hey Calem, why don't you stop by my office sometime so I can check out your PokéDICK, I mean deck. And then we can have a nice fuck, I mean, talk on my desk.” This was funny and also showed that the Professor had some sexual tension, which I learned when he did me late in his room one night after the parade. Ah, memories. 

I would not bring him around anyone at this time because here came sign 5: His very very broad opinion. I got a lot out of him this way, like how he felt about people and what he did with Lysandre for example. Going to say, Augustine is way kinkier with me than Lysandre because a romantic and a hellhound don't mix in bed. 

Step 6 is the final step and this is when I decide he needs to stop drinking and leave, he screams his love for me to the entire bar. This isn't a nearly romantic as some would imagine, Professor Sycamore proposing his love to someone was every girl's dream. When you have a grown man that can't stand and that's screaming in gibberish about how much he loves you, ah romantic. I usually get awkward stares from the bartenders as they giggle, even come in and try and gossip. I warn them that Augustine smells like the most disgusting mix of drinks ever as I sip my cola and tell them to stand away at least 6 inches. They laugh and ask me how I got him out of all the girls and say he's a keeper. I question that sometimes myself. 

So after 11 drinks in the Professor and about 4 on him, I take him back to the lab. Dragging him from the bar to the car and the car to the bathroom on the fourth floor is the biggest pain because HE CAN'T WALK. I haul him into the bathroom and make him sit on the sink mounted to the floor, all while he wobbles around like an idiot as I run a bath. I change into shorts and a shirt I can spare to torture, which means I change in front of the drunk baby to watch him. He usually comments “nice ass” or “nice boobs” (I don't know why, just, leave it) and I reply brightly with “thank you!” Then I undress him and his messy clothes and leave him to go to the bathroom in peace as I throw them into the washing machine and throw fluffy towels into the dryer to wait for me. This is usually the routine I set for this poor drunk man and myself so I can make sure I don't run into trouble. This routine was a little different. 

He sat on the sink naked and waiting for me with a bright smile, like a child. I was surprised by his eagerness when he was that drunk. I helped the drunk fuck who is a foot taller than me into the hot bath and made sure he was settled. I mumbled to myself, 

“If you could stand, you'd be taking a shower by yourself.” He then suggested I join him in that shower and I told him another time. After wrestling his unusual playful behavior and water fighting, I softly scrubbed his sticky arms, then worked as low as I could on his chest and back. He became easier to cooperate with since he wasn't rowdy like he usually is. It's as if he enjoyed me scrubbing his scalp and body, like it was a treat to him. He stayed calm as I rinsed him off and once again left him to go to the bathroom as I grabbed his warm fluffy towels. When I got back he was again, playful, which kinda made my job harder, but I wasn't going to complain if he did the small things I asked. 

I wrapped him in his warm towels and told him to take medicine to at least help with his hangover during the night. That was a task but I couldn't help but smirk when he downed the medicine in the one towel around his waist. I held his toned back as I walked him to his bedroom, which we mostly shared now. He sat on the edge of the bed and let me dry his hair for a few minutes with the towel he refused to take. 

I then threw the towel onto the floor and flung myself into the left side of the plush bed. Instead of throwing the comforter over us, I threw one thin sheet just to have, Augustine was always restless when he got drunk. He laid on his side and looked at me, my eyes looking at him and his messy wet hair then, closing. 

Augustine slipped his hands to my crotch and started to giggle like a 14 year old school boy making a sex joke in class. I smiled and moved his hand away, the attempts getting even sillier. 

“Augustine, mon amour, I am not going to do anything with you tonight, you're too drunk,” I told him like I was concerned. He huffed out a sigh and gave me a few moments, then he started all out tickling me. Private Drunk Augustine gets silly and a lot more cutesy and lovey compared to the sober romantic. I laughed and squirmed as he got on me to hold and tickle me, then we stopped dead in our tracks. I just looked at his hands against the pillow, right next to my ears and cheeks, looking down at me in my messy clothes from his bath. The sheet rested on his back as my left leg hung off the bed, his towel off him and against the back of his legs and bottom. I couldn't look at him farther down than his chest, perfectly clean and toned. I looked back at his face as his hair hanging in front of the side of his face, still damp as his eyes shot into mine. I felt my chest get tight, but not enough for me to breathe deeply, just make my chest pronounced as I breathed. Augustine on the other hand breathed like he ran a marathon and looked like he just had the roughest sex. All he could was exhale out his disgusting alcohol infested mouth. His back was arched, his crotch against mine, our stomachs almost touching as we just looked. 

“Calem…” he sighed out. His words were still stuttered and slurred, and he sounded out of place.

I gave him a nod. 

“I love you, more than anything in this world. You are like, the best thing that's ever fucking happened to me and I would do anything to and for you,” Augustine let out, as serious and his drunk ass would let him be.

I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the beautiful man above me, just the way his body was over mine as he shared how much he loved me. He arched down and kissed me, the taste of wine and margarita showing. He slid himself down to have his head on my right shoulder, his hair barely touching my cheek, his stomach now on both my upper and lower body. His arms hugged my sides as I loved our intimacy. I pulled the sheet off my leg and wrapped my leg around Augustine’s lower back making sure to keep him covered as I craddled him. 

“I love you too Augustine,” I whispered sincerely. He snorted.

“Calem says he loves me, hah, wow, Calem and Augustine sitting in a tree…” he laughed out softly. I cut him off and told him to rest as I ran my fingers through his wet hair. There was some small chat about us loving each other and funny stories, but besides that Augustine fell asleep on me naked and drunk. Charming. I went to sleep knowing I had to take care of him again the next day, but it didn't bother me.

Honestly, I love seeing Augustine drunk, it's funny; and I love taking care of him even more despite the effort. Treating him like a king was worth it. Letting him get as drunk as he wants and then get pampered by my nice ass with hot baths, fluffy towels, and the concern of his health makes me feel loved and wanted. The way he says I'm his means he wants me and only me, I'm wanted for once in life. I love and care for Augustine much more than I care to admit and I would do it more if he wanted to get drunk more, I know he would do the same for me. I could say a lot more, but with the love of your life drunk on top of you just wondering how he got a guy like you, it just makes life so worth it. I could never explain that moment like it felt to me, but I would say it's probably my favorite moment in our silly little romance. I wish I could stay in that moment forever, but I have the Professor all the time to look at and love. It makes it all worth it at the end of the day when he's next to me in our bed.


End file.
